"The Council," Horace scoffed. "Please. Did you receive a letter from Lord George Edgar? He called a meeting to discuss this attack, which was recently published in the Morning Chronicle. You might not have been invited, given your status with the Council. In any case, the meeting is scheduled to convene at midnight. Midnight! If the Council wishes to maintain any shred of secrecy, a meeting at midnight is not the way to go about it. The only people out at that time are drunks, prostitutes and thieves."
Waiting silently for the maid to leave, when August finally began speaking, Horace's attention was drawn to the button his friend was playing with, fascinated. If he kept handling the button, it would surely come off and be lost, but Horace refrained from saying anything about the subject, focusing on the main.
"My vision..." Horace's voice trailed off, remembering the images. "It is difficult to describe now, but it was so meaningful at the time, so clear... like an interrogation, it pierced straight to my heart. I have not disclosed to anybody what I saw, until now."